


The Traffic Report

by threecheersfortheblackparade



Series: Random Danger Days Fics [8]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mild Gore, the girls name is anthrax btw, yet more party poison angst lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26371342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threecheersfortheblackparade/pseuds/threecheersfortheblackparade
Summary: When party poison heard that jet star and the kobra kid had been dusted, they didn't cry.They weren't sad, because sad meant giving up.They weren't sad. They were angry.
Series: Random Danger Days Fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908487
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	The Traffic Report

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr, written for the lyric prompt "A thousand bodies piled up"
> 
> pronouns are
> 
> party- they/them  
> ghoul- he/him and she/her

Party poison was alone that day.

It was, in ghoul's opinion, the first mistake. She couldn't have predicted what had happened, of course, but still. It was a mistake.

* * *

Jet and kobra had gone down to route guano, something about the latter wanting to go 'sightseeing'. Being a desertborn, ghoul didn't see it himself, but he knew both the venom siblings were still in awe of the zones.

She had taken anthrax to zone 3, where the bleeding banshees were playing. Sure, the music wasn't exactly 'child friendly', but the kid had heard worse. Probably.

However, all this meant that no one was with party when they heard the news, not via a friend or a fellow zone runner but through the same way every other joy did. Through the radio.

* * *

When party poison heard that jet star and the kobra kid had been dusted, they didn't cry.

There were no tears. Not now. Not ever.

Because tears meant giving in. Tears meant accepting that their crewmates, their siblings, were gone, souls at the mercy of The Witch.

They weren't sad, because sad meant giving up.

They weren't sad. They were angry.

* * *

They tore off their mask with shaking hands, chucking it to the floor. In its place was long black veil, like the mourning brides of old.

A black hooded jumper hid the distinctive red hair.

They fired up their ray gun.

It wasn't party poison who walked out of that door.

* * *

It was ghoul who found them eventually, at the edge of zone 7. Months of searching, of crying and not sleeping, of praying desperately to the witch because _i cant loose them all i can't i won't_.

They were sitting on the ground, cross legged like a child, the veil discarded in favour of being exposed to the glaring sun. They were drenched in blood. They didn't know whose; it didn't matter any more. Nothing did.

Vultures picked at the strips of meat still clinging to abandoned bones. A thousand bodies, piled up around them, arranged into something vaguely resembling a circle. Ghoul felt sick.

".....Party?"

And then they turned, and it was the worst sight of all. Blood slowly dripped out of their hollow, empty eyes. Their mouth was pulled into a wide, toothless grin.

They cackled hysterically, tears mingling with the blood as they tried to contain their laughter. The noise was sharp and painful. How long the two of them stayed there- one laughing manically, the other huddled in a ball a few meters in front- she didn't know.

* * *

He got back to the diner eventually, of course. Moved immediately to zone 3. Raised anthrax as his own. Built a life in the daylight. Lived. Thrived. But at night, when the desert cooled and the sun disappeared and even the witch stayed well away, he could hear the hysterical, terrifying laughter.

They were waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated :)


End file.
